Dawn Runner

by Terri Farley

  “Compared to San Francisco, there’s not much traffic,” Sam said, making an excuse. Then, she turned toward Pam. “But we do have a sheriff, and he enforces traffic laws.”

  “I love it!” Pam said, smiling. “Not a regular cop, but a sheriff.”

  Was Pam visualizing a bowlegged Western movie sheriff with a tin star pinned to his vest and a six-gun holstered on his hip?

  “He’s just like a regular cop,” Sam said.

  Pam nodded. The fingers on one hand plucked at her crazy curls.

  Jen looked down and watched the wiggling of her toes, visible even inside her leather tennis shoes.

  “Is the baby of Ryan’s horse here?” Pam asked. “Do you think I could see it?”

  “Sure,” Sam said. Pam was a genius to think of horses, the best and most comfortable topic in the world. “His name is Shy Boots and he’s right over here. Jen’s been watching over him while Ryan’s out searching for Hotspot, the mom.”

  Sam had only taken two steps toward the small pasture when she noticed Jen wasn’t following.

  “I know,” Jen said as Sam looked back. “Why don’t I go get us some lemonade and something to eat, while you two look at the horses? I’ll meet you on the porch in a couple of minutes.”

  “That’d be great,” Sam said. “Thanks, Jen.”

  “You’re welcome, Sam,” Jen said, and her gracious tone hinted that Sam was overdoing the politeness.

  Maybe the scent of a stranger had carried to the horses’ sensitive nostrils, or maybe they were tired of being watched. In any case, Shy Boots stood against the farthest fence. With Princess Kitty standing in front of him, all Pam could see of the foal was his long brown legs.

  “This is an incredible ranch,” Pam said.

  “Yeah, the guy who owns it is a multimillionaire,” Sam said, then added, “Ryan’s dad.”

  “Right,” Pam said. “The man who thinks everything’s for sale.”

  Sam nodded, smiling.

  “Jen seems nice. What does she call those little things in her hair? Deely-boppers or doodads or something? Are they, uh, fashionable here?”

  Maybe Pam didn’t mean to sound rude, but she did, and Sam didn’t think it was a coincidence that Jen wasn’t here to hear the question. Sam just shrugged.

  And when she left Pam outside to wander around looking at things and made her way back to the foreman’s house, Sam heard Jen talking with her mother.

  Lila said, “It’s hard to believe she’s from San Francisco. She looks just like the girl next door.”

  Sam opened the screen door. Jen grinned as Sam walked in.

  Then, Jen answered her mother. “Yeah, if the girl next door is half orangutan.”

  Sam wondered if her eyes actually bugged out.

  “Jennifer!” Lila snapped, but she was facing the sink to pop ice cubes from a tray, not watching the mocking way Jen swung her arms.

  First Pam had made a condescending remark about Jen’s hair ties. Now Jen was actually mimicking Pam. They were acting like jealous little kids.

  As the goofy grin faded from Jen’s lips, Sam wondered if she was doing something to provoke this weirdness from her friends. She didn’t think so, but she tried to appeal to Jen’s sense of fairness.

  “Pam is nearly six feet tall and she’s an amazing basketball player,” Sam said, “but middle school was hard for her. She was the tallest kid in the entire school, even taller than most of the teachers.”

  “Oh,” Jen said. Then, at the sound of steps outside, she added, “There she is.”

  It was pretty quiet as the three of them sat at the little table on Jen’s front porch, sipping lemonade and staring at the blue pottery plate of cookies.

  Sam knew she wasn’t favoring one of her friends over the other. She knew they’d like each other if each just gave the other a chance, but how could she make that happen?

  Pam took a cookie from the plate and nibbled politely just as the iron gates slammed open. It couldn’t possibly be Gram again. Not yet.

  Ryan rode Sky Ranger down the road flanked with horses and cattle, but he didn’t spare a glance for all the animals and flowers around him.

  “Great! It’s Ryan!” Pam said and she actually gave a little bounce of excitement in her wooden chair.

  Perfect, Sam thought. She knew Pam was just pleased to see someone she recognized, but Jen didn’t seem to be able to wrap her mind around such a simple idea. Not at all. In fact, if looks could kill, Pam wouldn’t be chewing that chocolate chip cookie. She’d be choking on it.

  Chapter Ten

  “They don’t look very happy with each other,” Sam said.

  Something in her voice must have sliced through Jen’s irritation, because she stopped glaring at Pam and took a good look at the horse and rider.

  To the welcoming neighs of a dozen other horses, Ryan rode Sky Ranger toward the barn. Sky seemed to be walking on tiptoe. He mouthed his snaffle noisily and his ears twirled to catch every sound as if he were searching for a reason to act up.

  Ryan gave the girls a curt wave, then looked down. Hands perfectly spaced on the single rein, he stayed focused on his horse.

  “They’ve been out since the sun rose,” Jen said slowly, “but that”—Jen pointed as Sky’s hindquarters swiveled to one side before he launched a kick—“isn’t the action of a tired horse. And that,” she said as Ryan slapped Sky with the flat of his hand, “says they’re totally fed up with each other. Ryan’s too good a horseman to let Sky get the better of him like that.”

  As one, all three girls stood, but Jen took the lead as they approached Ryan and his mount.

  “Is it okay if I come along?” Pam asked.

  “You might as well,” Sam answered.

  “There aren’t many secrets on a ranch,” Jen added.

  Ryan’s dark hair was ruffled and dusty. Judging by Sky’s sweat-stiff coat, the gelding had definitely worked hard, but Jen was right. Something else was wrong.

  For a single moment, Ryan grinned. He looked delighted to see Jen striding toward him with her usual energy, but then his face closed up again.

  As if he were in the show ring, Ryan signaled his horse to back up. The Thoroughbred lashed his tail and kicked out with a single hind leg. When Ryan cued the gelding to move forward, he hopped and grunted.

  “This horse doesn’t know how to travel in a straight line,” Ryan complained.

  Jen tilted her head. As she studied Sky, one of her long white-blond braids hung past her shoulder and swung like a wildly decorated pendulum.

  “He’s known how to travel in a straight line since the day he was born,” Jen told Ryan. “If you can’t communicate what you want from him, that’s your fault.”

  Ryan’s face turned crimson.

  “I beg your pardon?” he snapped. Looking down from his seat atop the tall horse, he frowned at the girls as if they were lower life forms.

  “Just think about it,” Jen said gently. “And in the meantime, get down and let me try something.”

  Ryan kept staring at them, but apparently his lips could only hold that “Who do you think you are?” sneer for so long, because he gave a half smile as he jerked a dusty boot free of his stirrup iron and dismounted.

  “He’s all yours,” Ryan said. “Hello Samantha and Pamela. Lovely to see you, and I do hope you’re both enjoying this dressing-down Jen is giving me.”

  Sam made a noncommittal sound and Pam shrugged as Ryan tossed Sky’s rein to Jen. She caught it, but her grab was stiff, not graceful.

  “Are you really up to bronco busting?” Ryan asked as he touched her shoulder.

  “I don’t think there’ll be any of that,” Jen said. This time she was the one blushing. “Besides, if I mess up you can come rescue me.” She led Sky a few steps and when the Thoroughbred looked back over his shoulder, Jen did, too. “Who knows, you might get knighted or something.”

  Ryan shook his head. As Jen led his horse away, he looked after her with something like admiration.


  So did Pam. Then she turned to Sam, nodded wildly and made an “okay” sign with her fingers.

  If standing up to Ryan was what it took to earn Jen acceptance from Pam, Sam guessed that was okay. But she hoped Jen wasn’t in over her head.

  Jen gave a small gasp and hunched forward for a second after she’d slung Sky’s rein over the fence with a little too much force. Her ribs were still mending, no matter how tough she thought she was. Sam cringed as Jen stripped off the gelding’s small saddle, then she sent silent thanks to Sky for lowering his head as Jen reached behind his ears to remove his bridle. Jen kept the rein looped around his neck.

  At least she wasn’t going to try riding him. That was a relief.

  Ryan held his hands palms up and apart, frowning, as he looked questioningly at Sam. She shook her head.

  “I have no idea what she’s up to,” Sam told him. And then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Jed Kenworthy was watching his daughter, too.

  Judging by his thumbs-in-pockets stance, Jed, who stood in the barn’s shade, didn’t know what was coming next, either.

  Jen swung open the gate of Shy Boots’s empty paddock, pulled the rein off, and turned Sky loose.

  A sensible person, Sam thought, would have ducked away from the horse and let him work out his bad mood alone. Instead, when Sky began bucking and kicking at the clouds, Jen followed him inside and closed the gate behind her.

  Her four-person audience pressed closer to the fence to watch.

  At first, Jen only stood near the gate. That was scary enough for Sam.

  Seeing Jen in a confined space with a dangerous animal was too much like the day she’d seen her best friend attacked by the Hereford bull.

  “I don’t like this,” Sam told Ryan. “I don’t like this one bit.”

  “Tell me she knows what she’s doing,” Pam demanded. “Please.”

  Before she answered, Sam glanced at Jed Kenworthy. Jen was still on thin ice with her father. Sam didn’t want to do anything to make him unsure of her safety.

  “She knows what she’s doing,” Sam insisted.

  “But sometimes that ain’t enough,” Jed cut in.

  Pam faced Sam with widened eyes. She waggled her brows and rolled her eyes in Jed’s direction, as if to ask who this critical cowboy was, but Sam made a delaying gesture.

  She’d have to tell Pam later. Right now, Jen needed quiet so she could concentrate on the agitated horse.

  Sky’s bucking slackened. He broke into a staccato trot. As he circled the paddock, his tail swished, then he squealed in fury and commenced bucking again.

  “That’s it,” Jed said under his breath, as his daughter’s attention shifted. “Watch his hind end.”

  At Jed’s satisfied tone, Ryan leaned his crossed arms against the fence. He studied the gelding so hard, his brows almost met in the center.

  Sam felt a little sorry for Ryan as he tried to figure out Sky’s misbehavior before anyone else. He’d been Sky’s rider. He should know what was wrong.

  Sky stopped, tail held high as an Arabian. Jen came closer and he fidgeted, as if he wanted to run, but he didn’t. When she held her arms wide, then rushed toward him, he bolted, tail tucked for a second before he broke into another powerful, dusty round of bucking.

  “I’m stumped,” Sam told Jed. “He doesn’t move like he’s hurt.”

  At that, Ryan’s head whipped toward her.

  “I would never overwork a horse. Certainly not to the point of injury.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean—” Sam answered, but then they all heard Jen talking baby talk.

  “Sweetie, I’ll help you,” she said to Sky. She strolled closer to the horse with her arms down at her sides. “I’ll get all those nasty stickers out of your tail so they don’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Stickers?” Ryan asked in an undertone.

  He only looked ashamed for a second, then his eyes lost focus and Sam guessed he was reviewing his day, trying to recall when and where they’d encountered stickers.

  “There was a sort of bramble hedge,” Ryan mused, “with dried-up blackberries. A covey of quail burst out from under it. But it was some little distance off.”

  Ryan was still shaking his head when Jed turned to him.

  “Musta somehow stuck to the underside of his tail,” Jed said, “and since it looks to me as if she’s determined to get ’em off—I’ll tell you, son, I’d be obliged if you’d go in and help her.”

  “At once,” Ryan said.

  Was Ryan responding to Jed’s trust, his calm use of the word son, or did Ryan just want to help Jen before she needed the rescue she’d joked about? Sam didn’t know, but with more speed and grace than she would have expected, Ryan hopped the fence. And for a guy who’d just been shown up by his girlfriend, Ryan looked pretty happy.

  Sam watched as his eyes met Jen’s and held them for a minute.

  “Feeling all right, are you?”

  “I feel great,” Jen said.

  While they soothed Sky with voices and firm pats and plucked the stickers from his tail, Pam shook her head.

  “Your friend’s amazing,” Pam said.

  “Jen really knows horses,” Sam agreed.

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that.” Pam pulled Sam close enough to hear her whisper, “She did what she knew how to do, even though it made her boyfriend mad and her dad nuts.”

  “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “That’s sort of how cowgirls are.”

  “I wish I could be like that. I hate taking a chance on falling flat on my face,” Pam said in a normal tone. “But she just charged in and appointed herself the boss.” Pam rolled her eyes toward Sam. “In the nicest possible way, of course.”

  “Of course,” Sam said.

  Once Ryan and Jen had finished, Jen’s hands were shaking and she leaned against the fence. But just for a second. When she saw her dad watching, Jen pushed off from the fence, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, sounding casual as she walked back toward the gate.

  Ryan rushed ahead to open it for her, then bowed her through.

  “Don’t you be ‘hi, Dad-ing’ me all innocent like,” Jed told her. “I saw the whole danged thing.”

  A series of expressions crossed Jen’s face. First she was appalled, then defiant, and finally resigned. Then, looking a little bit proud, she took off her glasses, turned the hem of her lime green T-shirt inside out to polish her lenses, and asked, “What’d you think?”

  “Humph. Don’t matter what I think. All I know’s if your doctor’s willin’, I’m sending you back to school on Monday, so you don’t give me a heart attack.”

  With that, Jed stalked toward the foreman’s house. He moved fast and Sam couldn’t help thinking he wanted to get inside before Jen’s cowgirl yell split the afternoon.

  But he didn’t make it.

  Once her excitement settled into satisfaction, Jen talked with the other girls as Ryan groomed Sky Ranger near the barn.

  “Sam, I’ve got to have your honest opinion,” Jen insisted.

  “I think you should go inside and take a nap,” Sam said.

  “Not about that,” Jen said. “I want to give Ryan some more advice about Sky and I don’t know whether this is a great time or a terrible one to do that.”

  “How would I know?” Sam asked. She stared toward the barn.

  As sweetly as a pet dog shaking hands, Sky lifted a hoof to be cleaned.

  “He said there was no sign of Hotspot and he didn’t see a single mustang. I think he should switch horses, but I’m not sure he’d welcome my advice, since I just kind of—”

  “Beat him at his own game?” Sam interrupted. After all, the one thing Ryan excelled at was horsemanship.

  “I guess,” Jen said moodily. Then, slowly, she faced Pam, but she had to look up past the tall girl’s black-and-white jersey to do it. “What do you think?”

  “Me?” Pam put both hands on her chest. “I think you were amazing with both of th
em—Ryan and the horse,” Pam said without a trace of embarrassment.

  Jen gave a surprised laugh. “A girl of rare taste and judgment,” she joked. “You know how to pick friends, Sam.”

  “Yes, I do,” she agreed.

  “But,” Pam took the conversation back just as skillfully as she’d steal a basketball, “I’ve been on a lot of coed teams with guys, and I am blown away at how nice he’s being about you showing him up.”

  Ryan had turned Sky out into Gold Dust Ranch’s saddle horse pen and he was coming back their way.

  “Me too,” Sam said. “Especially for—” She’d been about to say, Especially for a Slocum. “A guy.”

  “But if I don’t say anything now, he’ll probably ride Sky out again tomorrow morning,” Jen said.

  “He needs to ride a horse that’s a little less intense,” Sam said. “I almost never see mustangs on any horse except Ace.”

  “Exactly,” Jen said. “I’ve got to say something.”

  “I’ll back you up,” Sam said. “I mean, Jake and I did what he’s trying to do.”

  Sam still didn’t think this was the right time to tell Ryan he was doing something else wrong, but Jen looked determined.

  “Okay,” Pam said, surrendering, “but if he tries to compliment you on handling his horse, pretend you lucked out.”

  “I will not,” Jen said. “I knew from the moment he rode in here—”

  “I’m just saying,” Pam told her, then nodded toward Ryan.

  He looked different, more willful than he had when wearing Jed’s praise.

  “What are you three plotting?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Well,” Jen said with a relieved sigh. “If you really want to know—”

  “Wait.” Ryan jabbed his palm toward her, as if it could halt her words. “I don’t.”

  “Ryan,” Jen stretched his name out teasingly.

  “Not if it’s advice about Hotspot,” Ryan insisted. He shook his dark hair away from eyes that looked angry.

  Apparently Jen didn’t notice, because she said, “Ryan, don’t be silly.”

  “Excuse me,” Pam said. She held up an index finger, and stepped away from the others. “I left my lemonade over on the porch, in the shade. I think I’ll go keep it company.”